The King and I
by wandsonly
Summary: Harry looked mortified, but only to cover a laugh, certainly. He really was a terrible actor. Hogwarts "Eighth Year." HPDM.


**Disclaimer**: All Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**The King and I**

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"Hey, Potter!" Draco waved frantically from across the hall and watched gleefully as Harry tensed midstep. They were alone in the corridor, leaving Harry no choice but to turn with a loud and long-suffering sigh. Staged, clearly. Harry was a terrible actor.

Draco sauntered towards him. He'd perfected the saunter—Pansy told him so.

"Why, Potter," he said loudly, "don't you look sensual this evening?"

Harry graced him with another weathered sigh. "Malfoy," he said, "it's midday."

Draco checked his watch. "It's past noon, and evening sounds much more fetching."

"That doesn't change the fact that it's only lunchtime."

"No matter. I'm sure you look just as ravishing now as you will come sunset."

Harry looked up at the ceiling—a poor way to conceal his excitement.

"There's no getting out of this, is there," he said.

"Nope, you've been avoiding me for ages."

"Yes," Harry nodded. "But they say all good things must come to an end, I suppose."

"Who says that? That's ridiculous. I'm still a Malfoy, am I not?"

Harry looked mortified, but only to cover a laugh, certainly. He really was a terrible actor.

Draco made a sweeping bow and offered his arm to Harry. "Come, Potter," he said.

Harry eyed him warily. "Was that an innuendo?"

"Obviously." He straightened himself up. "But there is a time and place—say, tomorrow in the old Arithmancy classroom on the fourth floor—and for now we must depart." Draco shook his offered arm pointedly. Harry glared at it.

"So, shall we?"

"Must we?"

"We must."

"All right then," Harry said, gripping his arm, "to hell with dignity."

Draco tugged him along cheerfully. In an attempt to "improve Muggle relations and understanding among Britain's wizarding youth," McGonagall had called for an annual Muggle-style Prom at Hogwarts' post-war reopening. Draco had gotten himself and Harry voted "co-Kings" in a tricky political maneuver to which he'd never admit. At least, Harry didn't need to know.

"Wait, Malfoy, were you voted Prom _Queen_?"

Draco stopped so quickly that Harry crashed into him. "Of course not, Potter," he said carefully, as Harry regained his balance. "You see, I'm all man." He patted Harry's shoulder fondly. Harry looked affronted. Draco wasn't sure why; he thought his own masculinity was the highlight of their relationship.

They continued towards the Great Hall, Harry whinging something awful, and stood before its doors. Draco observed them reverently.

He whispered, "Herein lies the truth of our characters and the fruit of our toils, the most regal of—"

"Get bloody on with it," Harry interrupted.

"Fine. Wanker," Draco said. He paused to appreciate the lunchtime chatter beyond the doors, then shoved a plastic crown on Harry's head. He donned his own to match. Harry scowled up at him and reached to adjust the lopsided placement of his crown. Yes, Draco could see right through him, and Harry was secretly pleased.

Draco smoothed Harry's robes, mussed his hair a bit, and placed his own free hand on the door. With a shove, both doors swung open, and with the attention of the entire student body at his command, he proceeded to parade Harry through the Hall.

A hush had fallen at their entrance, to which Draco smirked his approval. Slughorn beamed down at him and Harry, and a few students went slack-jawed. Draco forgave them; he supposed not everyone could possess the intelligence of a royal.

He glanced over at Harry, who looked rather sheepish. They strutted between the tables with heads held high. Or, Draco's was. Harry was attempting embarrassed. Surprised murmurs arose among the students, but Draco paid no mind. He waved and winked and sent them winning smiles.

"Like bloody Lockhart," Harry grumbled. Draco ignored him.

"Say hello to your subjects, Harry."

He was Prom King, and he'd milk it for all it was worth.

**End**


End file.
